


Impulse

by aww_clint_no



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Dildos, M/M, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-23
Updated: 2014-06-23
Packaged: 2018-02-05 23:33:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1836247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aww_clint_no/pseuds/aww_clint_no
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Biggest Bottom in the World has competition.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Impulse

Phil’s been feeling empty lately.  Unfulfilled.  Hollow.  Unoccupied.

His life hasn’t been a barrel of satisfaction either.

No, what had been really bothering him lately was the lack of a good hard dick in his ass, and if he were to be honest, one particular dick would _really_ do it for him right now.  The dick that belonged to the official “Biggest Bottom in the World”, third year running, according to _Gayboy_ , the elder statesman of gay pornography magazines.  No, really, they had erudite and thought-provoking articles; the most incisive and revelatory Donald Rumsfeld interview to date was published in the April 2013 issue, and it preceded a centrefold spread of a man in a stylishly arranged stable, wearing a 19th Century frill shirt and naked from the waist down, bending over and pulling his smooth ass cheeks apart to reveal a tight pink hole.

How _Gayboy_ became so adamant that Clint Barton was a rampant bottom was based on loosely circumstantial evidence.  Firstly, Barton was out and proud, so the first hurdle was out of the way; secondly, he made suspiciously frequent references to ‘taking it’, and variants of that term, in his interviews (that one was more than a little weak to Phil); thirdly, he had the most delectable bubble butt that was made for fucking; and finally, he had a habit of arching his back and sticking his ass out, when just standing around, when leaning a hand on a wall, when bending over for a stretch…

Phil also had inside info on this matter.  He’s seen said bubble butt once, bare in the locker rooms, and that was when Phil also discovered that Barton wore jockstraps.  He’d also heard Barton whine, on more than one occasion, that a fellow superhero, or more concerningly, a villain, had winked at him at the end of a battle.

“Why do they gotta do that, huh?” Clint moaned.

_Because they can smell it on you for miles, Barton, Christ._

The thing was, Barton never talked about his sexual history, in public or in private, which was fair enough, but without any information from the man himself, Phil would say that the evidence was strongly in favour of Clint fully deserving his annual accolade.

Except there’s definitely a bigger bottom out there, and his name is Phil Coulson.  How very like him to develop an animal craving for a guy who probably had no desire to top anyone, especially his killjoy of a handler.

Tonight, he’s laying atop a towel laid over his sheets, completely naked, accoutrements arranged neatly on the bedside drawer.  He’s depressingly accustomed to a self-love routine that gets him off within five minutes, a routine that is getting progressively less satisfying day after day, but a routine that is his only way not to go mad with unwanted lust.  Phil looks at the digital clock.  23:45.  Five minutes, and he’ll clean up and be asleep before midnight.

Phil closes his eyes, and takes a deep breath, letting an image come to mind.  Barton…Clint, is hovering above him, holding his arms down and whispering filthy words of promise.  Phil’s cock is already past half-hard and ready to go, so he turns over onto his elbows and knees to initiate Stage 2 of Make Phil Come Humiliatingly Fast.

Now, phantom Clint is behind him, strong hands settling on Phil’s hips, and he’s been feeling such a lack of _something_ inside him lately that he mentally drops into ultimate submission, stretching his arms out in front of him, forehead on the bed, spreading his legs wide and arching his ass in the air as far as it’ll go.  He’s no longer a spring chicken, and his flexibility’s not what it used to be, but he needs this so, so, much.  His asshole reflexively clenches and releases, but he’s only clutching at air, and for a moment he’s sorrowfully drawn back into reality, the words _alone_ and _pathetic_ screaming in his brain, but he crushes those thoughts down with violent purpose.  He needs this.  Or else, he’s going to make a fool out of himself in front of the real deal one day, and the words _alone_ and _pathetic_ won’t only be in his mind. 

He makes a blind grab for the lube and dildo, expertly dispensing a few drops of lube on his fingers, and pushing two fingers in his ass immediately.  He relishes the sharp pain, followed by a searing burn that flushes all the heat in his body down to that ring of muscle.  Anything to distract, anything to wipe away all self-consciousness and give him unbridled pleasure, just for a little while.

His asshole pulses, then relaxes, accepting the intrusion, and phantom Clint is back, roughly preparing him for his cock.  Phil groans in the otherwise silent bedroom, Clint’s words of heated encouragement weightless in the air.

 

*******************

 

Clint Barton is currently frozen mid-movement, like a Renaissance statue.

He’d been bored, and decided on a whim to go to Coulson’s, just to hang out for a while, maybe watch DVR’d episodes of _Archer_ and point out all the ways ISIS is exactly like SHIELD.

Another one of his inspired impulses was to take the fire escape route up five floors instead, and Clint had intended to knock on the window, you know, make a different entrance, just for shits n’ giggles.

He hadn’t intended on watching Coulson fuck himself like there was no tomorrow.

He wasn’t surprised that Coulson was gay - not that he was expecting it, he just didn’t think—Coulson’s sex life was his own, he could be anything, shut up.  What was astonishing was Coulson’s…enthusiasm.  He’d never assumed Coulson was a wet blanket in the sack, in fact, quite the opposite - men in suits were a kink of his, because suits spoke of restraint and suppression, and Clint wanted that burst of fiery passion when the suits came off, directed at him, and more specifically, directed in his ass.

What Clint had not anticipated was that Coulson was a ‘taker’, and an exuberant one at that.

Coulson has three fingers barely in his ass, the awkward solo position limiting penetration to the first knuckle.  Nevertheless, he’s pumping away, practically slamming his palm into his balls, and Clint feels himself being shrouded by a haze of lust.  Coulson’s face is a picture of carnality, at times biting his lips, then panting, the strain on his face showing just how much he needs this.  He finally pulls his fingers out, reaches for his dildo, and holy fuck.  It’s huge.  It may be time to stop thinking of this as _Coulson_ but rather _Phil_ , or else the dissonance is going to make his head explode.

Clint is still rigidly in a crouch, unwilling to move a muscle, for fear of breaking this crazy sexual haze that’s fallen over Phil.  His dick is throbbing, but he dares not lift his hand.  Phil has lubed up the silicone dildo, and Clint can see its simulated veins glisten in the moonlight, along with a bulbous head that’s got to feel so good inside.  With one hand pulling a cheek aside, and the other hand fisted below the dildo’s head, Phil slowly pushes it in, his eyes slammed shut, and as it worms its way in, he utters a long whiny _unh_ that diffuses through the window, and his legs are so wide, like his ass is insatiably hungry for cock.

“Fuck!” Clint groans out loud, and _fuck!_ , he groans inwardly.

Phil freezes. His ass twitches around the dildo once, and he slowly turns his head towards the window.  

Clint holds a hand up, and wiggles his fingers in a friendly hello.  Phil gestures that the window is unlocked, and Clint enters the bedroom, and stands next to the bed.

“Barton,” Phil says, his voice hoarse but coldly professional, and Clint is just…he doesn’t know what the fuck is happening anymore. Ph—Coulson, no he can’t say Coulson—Phil is addressing him like this is any other asset-handler meeting, but he’s naked with a big black dildo wedged up his ass, and the stray thought of this usually uptight, sophisticated man being a greedy cockslut is Clint’s only excuse for what he says next.

“You, uh, you need help there?” Clint says, biting his lip.

Phil’s face cools even further.  “I would appreciate it if you didn’t mock me in my own home.”

“No! No, I mean, that’s…so fucking hot, Sir—Coulson,” Clint blurts out, and Phil’s jaw drops open slightly.  “If you want, I could help you, your arms must be tired by now.”

There’s a few moments of silence, as Phil’s mouth opens and closes in aborted attempts to speak.  He looks down Clint’s body, and sees the erection that’s still begging for release; he turns his eyes back up to Clint’s face, and licks his lips.

“Hop to it, soldier.”

Clint is de-pantsed and kneeling on the bed within seconds, and he lays a firm hand on the small of Phil’s back, pushing his hips down to the bed.

“Relax,” Clint says.  “All you need to do is take it.”

Clint takes hold of the dildo that’s still lodged inside, and adds more lube. He carefully pushes it in and out a little ways, and he can feel Phil’s involuntary contractions grab onto the toy.  “Feel good, babe?”

“ _Unnnhhhh_ , please,” Phil drags out.  “Need it. More.”

“I’ll give you more,” Clint replies, pushing in harder suddenly, and Phil cries out.  “You’re so fucking sexy like this…Ph-Phil.”

Phil gasps, and he begins to grind against the towel, clenching his ass and moaning with abandon.  “W-want your cock in me, Clint.  Want you to fill me up.”

“I will, I promise,” Clint responds, and he’s no longer aware of what he’s saying, he’s so subsumed by the fantasy.  “I can’t resist your tight ass.”

Clint continues thrusting the dildo in and out, the slick noises and the sight of the toy pulling at the hole making him unbelievably hard.  He vigorously jerks his cock until he’s on the edge.

“Are you gonna come soon?” He pants.  Phil moans, “Yeah.”

Clint roughly flips Phil on his back, and resumes driving the dildo in.  Both of them furiously pull at their cocks, until Clint comes with a choked growl, spattering Phil’s belly with cum.  Phil picks up the cum with his fingers, and _holy fuck_ , he lubes his cock with it; a minute later, Phil comes with a sharp cry, and they both lay on their backs, side by side, panting.

 

****************

 

Eventually, they regain their breaths, and fall silent.

“That. Was. Amazing,” Clint murmurs, with wonder in his voice.

Phil turns his head towards the window.  “Yeah, it was,” he mumbles.

The words are a bucket of cold water.  “I know I was just a convenient lay, Coulson, but you could give a guy some encouragement while he’s still in bed with you.”

Phil snaps his head back towards Clint.  “You weren’t a convenient…partner,” he implores.  “You’re everything I dreamed of.  This,” he waved his arm about haphazardly, “this was the most incredible fuck in my _life_.  You were perfect, and I can’t thank you enough.”

“Thank me? You think I was just humouring you?” Clint retorts.  Phil flinches from his words.  “You think I did this out of pity? How cruel do you think I am?”

“No, no, not cruel, never that,” Phil pleaded.  “It’s just that…I know this isn’t your preference.”

“My pref—you bought into it.  _Biggest Bottom in the World, 2011-2013_ , right?  They don’t know anything, and it turns out neither do you.”

“What?” Phil blurted out.

“Maybe I am a gigantic bottom.  But that’s not all I am.  Believe me when I say that tonight was fan-fucking-tastic, and I’d love to do it again.  I’d top you, any day of the week.”

“God, Clint,” Phil exhaled, and drew Clint in for a gentle kiss.  “There’s, uh, a diner down the street.  You want to go there with me any time?”

“Sex, then a kiss, then a date,” Clint chuckled.  “All fucked up and backwards.  Ahh, why not?”

“Why not, indeed.”


End file.
